The Voice
by silentlysnowing
Summary: And when he closes his eyes- flashes of silver and blue. He knows it’s not his dragon, so he ignores it. But there’s a face that goes with the colors, a face most pale and unusual. He has a feeling that both are associated with the voice.


So, uh, it's been a _long_ time since I last watched actual Yu-Gi-Oh, though I still keep mildly up-to-date by watching the Abridged series. But Seto Kaiba is awesome, and I wanted to try my hand at writing him. So... here you go. Oh, and also, I'm not used to writing in present tense, so my apologies if it sounds confusing anywhere. :)

* * *

There's a little voice in the back of his head that refuses to go away.

He doesn't have _time_ for voices, or the implications that come with them. Insanity is out of the question- if his mental abilities were ever brought into a questionable light, his control over everything important would be shaken, perhaps lost. So there are no psychiatrists, no psychological attempts to make the voice go away. He merely ignores it. It's not particularly hard, since it's usually using words such as 'Destiny' and 'Ancient Past', which he put a mental block around long ago, but it's a nuisance all the same.

"I wish you wouldn't shut me out," the voice says. It's light and yet strong, undoubtedly feminine, oddly familiar. A pleasant voice. He turns on a soundtrack of classical music in his head to drown it out- Mozart goes excellently with reading company reports, anyway. Predictably, the voice is still there, but it has the decency to quiet down and let him listen in peace.

And when he closes his eyes- flashes of silver and blue. He knows it's not his dragon, so he ignores it. But there's a face that goes with the colors, a face most pale and unusual. He has a feeling that both are associated with the voice. Then he catches himself, and stubbornly scrolls through lines of programming in his mind, as a distraction. The colors, the face, they're still there, but they stay back respectfully, watching.

He tries cures, as inconspicuously as he can (though his secretary is still giving him odd looks when she thinks he isn't looking). He switches to a new brand of coffee. He talks out loud while alone in his office, to avoid keeping too much in his head. He loads himself down with even more work than usual, to stay constantly busy. He even tries sleeping more than his typical three-to-four hours a night.

That last idea proves to be a bad one- for how long have his dreams featured a strange, blue-haired girl?

Nothing works, in any case. The voice is always there. Sometimes it doesn't speak, but he still can feel it, and- the worst part of it all- he can't _control_ it. He needs control, he craves it, and he's gained it almost to the point of perfection in the rest of his life. Even this single lapse is a blow to his pride.

Then, he slips. Then, one day, he's thinking through the design plans for the newest product he's considering putting on the market, and he realizes that he's thinking _at_ the voice. It does not speak much, but the quiet little comments it makes are constructive and show that it has been listening. He scowls, and tells himself out loud to just ignore it. In the process, he convinces his secretary that he has, indeed, gotten odder than usual lately. He notices. He considers firing her, but the voice thinks that's not necessary.

- and for how long has he been taking advice from this voice?

Time passes, and he starts to give in to something for the first time in his life. The voice is not harassing him, but neither is it showing signs of going away. And, against all odds, the voice is useful. All advisors are primarily self-interested, and will only look out for the good of the company on a secondary level. His brother is slightly more helpful, but is also quite young, and much more interested in girls, social events, and card games than he is in stocks and technology. The voice, on the other hand, turns out to be an excellent observer, intelligent and clear-headed, capable of forming a decent, independent opinion. The voice, once it- once she- has gotten over absurd notions of the past, is someone who he can actually have a decent conversation with.

But he can only run away from the real issue at hand for so long. Either he's having extended conversations on complex mechanics and political trends with a part of his subconscious, or- or- for crying out loud, hadn't he tried to leave all of that ridiculous magic mumbo-jumbo behind?

It takes him a few drinks to work up the conviction that it's actually necessary to pick up the phone. Then he has to put down the phone again, to look up the numbers- he hasn't had a reason to contact that person in recent times. The phone rings, twice, thrice, and then there's a click.

"Hello, game shop!"

He stretches back in his chair, closing his eyes. The impression of the voice, blue and silver, is watching him, a small smile on her face. "Yugi."

There's a pause, and then the person on the other end of the phone starts speaking brightly. "Oh, Kaiba! I haven't heard from you in a while. What's up?"

He doesn't want to say it- he doesn't even want to consider it. Hell, there was a good reason why he blocked out all memories of that period of time in the first place. But, overall, he'd prefer magic to insanity. And maybe, later, he'd be able to explain it away.

"I think I'm ready to hear about what really happened in Egypt."

* * *

I know that this is a... different take on Kisara, but I figure that Seto could hardly like anyone who isn't at least as intelligent as himself. So, why not?


End file.
